Distance
by ImaTVJunkie
Summary: One shot using Secrets In The Proposal - Booth & Brennan's POV


There's no mistake. I've hurt her. Badly. And it's killing me.

My stomach is in a constant knot. When I look into her eyes, so blue, so sad, so full of questions and pain, it just twists my gut tighter. She's begging me to tell her. I'm sorry, I just. Can't.

I'm caught. There's the rock. There's the hard place. And here I am, floundering in the middle.

It's not so much that I've played into his hands. It's that I can't tell her why. I want to rip my own heart out and hold it out to her. Show her how much this is killing me, breaking my heart. I want to pull her close, tell her everything. Tell her how much I love her and want her and need her. Tell her that I was stupid and of course I want to marry her. Tell her that she and Christine are my entire world. Life. But I just can't do it. I'm forced into being distant.

I can't take the chance. Sure. He could be bluffing. But I don't think so. We've seen enough of this man to know that he's pure evil. Innocent lives mean nothing. He's too entrenched in the game. He wants, _needs,_ to win. That's his only goal. To beat me. And win. What happens between now and winning doesn't matter.

What he hasn't banked on, is me winning. And I will. As God is my witness. I am going to win.

* * *

Enter Father Aldo Clemens. Well, actually ex-Father. He has been a Godsend. Literally. He's been a great sounding board. He listens. Well. He thinks long and hard before he speaks. And when he does, it's full of thoughtful musings. He gives considered advice. He speaks softly, surely. But mostly he listens.

He pours me another drink as I lay my soul before him. I know he is no longer my father confessor. But there is a part of me that will always consider him that way. I know I can trust him with my deepest, most distasteful thoughts. He will not judge me. He is my friend. My brother in arms.

We have seen the darkest of days together. War binds men together like nothing else. It ties your souls together with a black coarse thread that cannot be seen, but is felt. It pulls at you when you are together. Making you remember things. Terrible things.

We men of arms try to avoid each other usually. It is too painful looking into each other's eyes. Seeing that same tortured soul staring back at you. Reminding you.

Aldo is also different now, just as I am. He left the church behind. And while he still believes there is a God, he has railed against him. Called him out on his failings. He calls God a bastard, which makes me smile, then say a quick Hail Mary for thinking it amusing. He maintains that if God was good and holy as the church and the bible would have us believe, then he would have held close to him the lives of our brothers. Kept them safe. Delivered them home to their loved ones. But instead, he allowed them to fall. Broken and bloodied in fields that ran red with their blood of the good and the evil.

If he had not come here to this town, opened this little dark and dingy hole in the wall, I probably would have continued on as I had for the last three months, pushing down all the anger and hurt I'm feeling. All the pain. All the sadness. All the frustration at the situation I find myself in. He has allowed me to unburden myself. Of course Bones has no knowledge of how much I have unburdened myself.

The night I finally talked to Aldo about Pelant, started out like almost every night of the last three months. I sat at the bar, opposite him. Bordering on drunk. Talking about old times. Our day. The weather. My daughter. Mundane, seemingly innocent things. But that night, I wanted to talk to him about Bones. I needed to. I had asked if there was anywhere we could speak. Without questioning me, Aldo took me down into the refrigerated cellar beneath the bar. It was dimly lit. Damp. Cold. But more importantly, it was completely cut off from the world above.

He used one hand to reach inside the doorway and flick a switch. An old light fixture stuttered then flooded the space with a cold green tinged light. There were a few beer kegs stacked against one wall. A rack that had crates of bottled wine, and another with boxes of beef, and jars of dill pickles. And not much else.

I checked it thoroughly, Aldo smiling at my "tin foil hat paranoia". But, as Aldo had assured me. There was nothing down here. My phone didn't even have a signal. We sat on crates and talked. I unburdened my soul to him. Not as my confessor, but as my friend.

I told him everything. I left nothing out. Then, I told him about Pelant. What he had done. What he wanted to do. All my deepest, darkest thoughts. All the horrible things I had dreamed about doing to Pelant. My as yet, uncertain plans for revenge.

I told him how I had betrayed Bones. Lied to her. Kept secrets from her. How I avoided talking to her as much as possible outside of work. How I had hurt her, and then basically removed myself emotionally from her. I was still at home, physically. Well, most of the time. Sometimes, it was just too hard.

Caroline would come into my office in the mornings, and find me asleep, slumped in a chair, my legs supported on a box, partly because I was trying to keep on top of my day job, while trying to keep tabs on Pelant. And partly because it was so terribly hard being around Bones. Looking into those eyes. Wide, staring at me all the time. Questions in them that I couldn't answer. Accusations, unspoken, but thought all the same.

I know Bones was starting to suspect I was having an affair, or that I was tired of her. This wasn't helped by the fact that Angela had been in her ear. Putting stupid ideas in her head. I had some pretty harsh words with Angela the other day. She basically accused me of not being attracted to Brennan any more. Like that could even happen! I am so angry at Angela right now. Brennan is vulnerable, and the last thing I need is Angie filling her head with God knows what, stupid ideas about me. Trouble is, I can't address it, because if I do, she's going to ask me why she should believe me.

Within forty minutes he knew it all. And I knew that what I had told him would never be repeated to anyone. Not even God. For Aldo and God did not talk anymore.

He stood. Leaning against the cold brick wall, considering my words. His brow, furrowed. His hair flopping across his forehead. His fingers were tracing the timber grain of the beam supporting the ceiIing. I could see him wrestling with my dilemma. "He's trying to drive a wedge between you, right?" I nodded, and admitted that he was, and it seemed, he was succeeding.

"You need to find him and kill him" he had said suddenly. The words cold and hard.

I admit, to hear him utter the words that I had been thinking about for months, made me sit up. He put into clear and concise words what I, myself had been thinking, but had been unsure of bringing out into the open.

I remember sitting there, part of me shocked that he actually said them out loud, the other rejoicing that somebody understood and agreed with me. I stared at Aldo. Our eyes a clear reflection of each other. He nodded at me and turned to the door. "We need a drink" he said simply.

We left our discussion down in that basement. For the first time in months, I was at peace. My thoughts were finally clear in my head.

We sat at the bar and Aldo poured us both a drink. We lifted our glasses. They clinked softly as we held them out to each other. A silent toast. No words. Just our eyes meeting and knowing what must be done. Aldo's words ringing in my ears "What would Brennan think if you put her happiness ahead of a group of innocent people's lives?"

Of course she wouldn't be able to live with that, and neither would I. And Aldo knows it.

I stood and thanked him for the drink. He nodded. I shook his hand. It was warm, strong, reassuring. He had my back, now. Just as he had in the past. And for that I was grateful.

He handed me a few of his business cards. Things had not really taken off at the bar yet. Most nights I was the only customer he had. And he wasn't making any money of me as he continually poured me drinks on the house for old times sake. I told him I'd hand them out at work. There's nothing a bunch of overworked FBI guys like better than a quiet, out of the way place where they could sit and drink their worries away.

* * *

I don't know what more I can say to him. He's so distant. Cool. He tells me he loves me, that he would die for me. His eyes tell me he means it. That he believes it. I'm just not sure I do. I mean, I want to. I'm just not sure I can.

He's been staying away from home at night. I lie awake. Waiting for his key in the door. But most nights, it doesn't come. I get up and wander around the house. Checking on Christine. Making sure doors and windows are locked. Checking the phone for messages that never come. More often than not, I sit at the breakfast bar and drink coffee at three in the morning, waiting for him, or the sunrise.

Work fills my day. But I don't find it satisfying. It simply passes the hours until I pick Christine up and go home and cook dinner, and wait for him.

Angela is angry. She thinks Booth is pulling away from me because he's bored with me. I can't tell you how much that hurt. That she said it to me. I thought Angela was my friend. Sometimes I'm just not sure. I thought friends were supposed to be supportive and say good things to you. But she's making me think otherwise. She's making me second guess myself and Booth.

I understand that the first flush of love and lust can pass quickly. I just didn't think it would pass so soon. I still love him. I do. I miss him. I miss his warmth. I miss his smile. I miss his hands on me, stroking my cheek, pulling my hair away from my neck before he presses his lips to my skin. I miss the way he makes me shiver with anticipation just by looking at me. I miss the way our bodies meld together when we hold each other. I miss him.

Christine is starting to notice his absence. She asks for Daddy more and more. She misses him bathing her, and reading with her every night. I'm not saying he's never here. But two or three nights a week is not really _being_ here. And even when he is here, he waits until he thinks I'm asleep before he comes to bed.

Of course I'm never asleep. I can't. I miss his body pressing against mine. I miss the way he lies on his side of the bed and I roll towards him because he weighs the mattress down more on his side. I miss the way he lies with his arm outstretched and his hand under my pillow. I miss the way he presses the soles of his feet against my shins when he's facing away from me, just to have some sort of contact with me. I miss him.

Cam is the one voice of reason I have at the moment. She insists Booth loves me just as much as he ever had. She also says she knows that I love him. Cam told me that she believes Booth and I are miserable. She bases this assumption on our faces when we are around each other. I stood looking at myself in the mirror the other night. She's right. I am miserable. Terribly.

I've just sat through another tirade from Angela. The minute Booth's name is mentioned she gets this look on her face. Pinched. She rolls her eyes and tells me I deserve better. I don't want better. I want him. But then she has me thinking, what if he doesn't want me. What if there is something newer, younger, better out there. I let my mind drift briefly to Hannah.

I found some business cards in Booth's jacket pocket. I know. I feel guilty that I went through his pockets. But Angela was insistent that I should look for evidence of his infidelity. Paradise Lost. Angela is convinced it's a strip joint. I'm not so sure.

I decided to go there after work. It occurred to me that I might find Booth there. I didn't. And it didn't turn out to be a strip club either. It was some dark, slightly dingy hole in the wall bar.

That's where I met Aldo. He greeted me, making a joke about it being ladies night. I was the only woman in the bar. I was, in fact the only customer in the bar. He offered me a drink. The house special. Which turned out to be bourbon. Not something I usually would have chosen, but under the circumstances, I really didn't care what I drank. I fumbled with my purse for some cash, and he saw my ID.

He called me out on it. Asking me if I was Booth's girl. That made me smile and cringe. I'm hardly a girl, but Aldo insisted. He introduced himself, told me about his relationship with Booth. How they had formed a friendship during the dark days of war. He told me that Booth had been coming their almost every night. Pouring out his heart. He told me that Booth's conviction was strong. That Booth was a good man. He told me that Booth loved me, that he wanted to marry me, more than I could ever know.

I left the bar, strong in the knowledge that Booth must have good reasons to be doing what he is doing. I needed to let him know that I loved him and believed in him. That I trusted him.

I was sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking my second glass of red wine. I started to think that he wasn't going to come home again tonight. But then I heard his key in the door. I think I breathed for the first time in an hour. I poured him a glass and handed it to him. I remember the look on his face. I told him I needed to tell him something. He was scared I was ending it. He begged me for more time. I knew then I was doing the right thing.

* * *

"I'm not going to leave you Booth."

His face almost crumpled. He pulled Brennan into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could. She leaned into him, her face pressed to his neck. He sighed heavily, she pulled him against her, feeling the warmth that she had been missing, breathed in his scent.

"I want to tell you that I have complete faith in you" she said softly. He couldn't speak, he simply stared into those clear crystal blue eyes.

" I trust you. I know you love me" she said. "and Christine, and" she hesitated. The pain in his eyes making her realise her own mistrust had helped put that look there. "I'm sorry I lost sight of that temporarily." she swallowed hard.

Booth couldn't speak. He wanted to say so much. He stared into those eyes, willing her to hear him.

"You're a good man" she said. His slight smile encouraging her "You have your reasons and when you can, you'll share them with me" she said. She believed in what she was saying. Aldo had made her look at things differently. Openly. He helped brush the veil away from her heart and her eyes. She could truly _see_ Booth now. "I'm sorry" she said, tears beginning to prick at her eyes.

Booth felt his stomach turn, the lump in his throat grow bigger. He wanted to tell her everything right there. "Look, I'm sorry" he stumbled. The words sticking in his throat. He was sorry. So very sorry for what he had done to her. He held her, feeling her there, with him. Seeing her, seeing him more clearly than she had in months. She didn't understand why he was doing what he was doing, but he could see she loved him enough to let him do what he needed to do and believed that when the time was right, he would tell her everything. _And he would. He would_.

* * *

The feel of her in my arms is all I need. She's with me. Heart, mind, body and soul. I don't know how, or why, or what made her look at me and believe that I'm doing what I need to do for the right reasons. She's just given me what I need to go on. She gave me what I've longed for, her trust. IT's the biggest gift she could give me right now.

I'm not saying that its fair, or right. I know I have to keep going down this road for the time being. But I now feel as though she's there, beside me. I know she's still hurting. Her eyes tell me that. But at least she's willing to trust me for now. And I'm going to do everything I can to diminish that hurt.

I promised her then and there that when I could, I was going to ask her to marry me. Her kiss told me that she knows and believes me.

_I think I just felt that distance between us close._

I just hope I don't have to wait too long.

I still have this uneasy feeling, but right now I don't care. We're together. That's all I care about right now.


End file.
